


Moonlit Beginnings

by Kienova



Category: Call the Midwife
Genre: F/M, First Time, Loss of Virginity, Smut, series 3 christmas special
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-24
Updated: 2016-06-24
Packaged: 2018-07-17 23:43:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,735
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7290889
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kienova/pseuds/Kienova
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He expects her to stay on the sofa when she shows up during the bomb incident.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Moonlit Beginnings

**Author's Note:**

> Some smut to try and ease the horrific events of BREXIT. 
> 
> Canada is your refuge should you need a place to be friends from the UK. We have a smaller population than you, and England would fit in just one of our lakes. 
> 
> We also have Ryan Reynolds. And our Prime Minister is gorgeous. 
> 
> #CometoCanada

He expects her to stay on the sofa. He offered her the bed when she showed up at the door unannounced, a victim of relocation due to the unexploded bomb like so many others in Poplar. He had tried to be a gentleman for her, to sleep on the sofa to save her back, but she had insisted she was fine, rolling her eyes when he made one last attempt to convince her that the bed was more suitable for a lady. He watched her curl up under the spare quilt, her nightdress simple and proper as she lay back against the cushions, her hair loose and glowing like honey mixed with brown sugar in the dim light of the room as he bid her goodnight.

Although he had wanted to stay up just to enjoy her company, basking in the thought of this being their reality within a few short days, save for their sleeping positions, he finds himself quickly falling asleep, the exhaustion from the day and the last week catching up with him. He is just about to drift off when he hears the slight creak of his bedroom door, the wood clicking back into place a moment later as he opens his eyes. Her figure is tiny against the darkness of the room, her feet barely making any noise as they carry her from the door to his bed, her body easily lifting onto the mattress as she lies next to him.

“Shelagh, is everything all right?” he asks, trying to shake the sleepiness from his voice.

“Mmhmm,” she answers, voice quiet in the darkness as she cuddles into his side, her hand resting over his heart.

“What are you doing up here?” he continues, unable to fully process what is going on. “Not that I’m not happy to have you, it’s just... this isn’t very proper.”

“Its lonesome downstairs in the parlour,” she replies on a sigh. “And I think we have had long enough being proper. We’ve not even kissed Patrick.” She leans her chin on his shoulder then, an impish look on her face. He cannot help but grin in response, a shocked expression passing over his features as she straddles him, one leg on either side of his hips, her nightgown riding up until he can see the pale flesh of her thighs in the moonlight. She bends forward, rubbing her nose along the side of his before she gingerly lowers her lips to his mouth, pressing softly until she grows in confidence, licking into his mouth when she feels his hands skim up her back and tangle in her hair, holding her against him. She feels more than hears the moan that rumbles up his throat, catching it on her tongue and swallowing the sound before it can escape into the dark air of the bedroom, leaning back so that she can catch her breath, her chest heaving.

He does not let her remain sitting upright for long, quickly pulling her back down, her hair is a curtain of gossamer silk, tousled from his hands cocooning them together as she leans over him again, kissing him fervently, her hips rocking against him. He isn’t sure if she is aware of the actions her body is taking, but he is not able to complain, his own physiology responding almost immediately to her proximity and motion, his cock hardening beneath the fabric of the blanket and his pyjama trousers. He feels her surprised puff of air at her next rocking motion, the quilt being pushed down far enough by the movement of her thighs that there is abruptly little material to buffer the sensations of their bodies.

“Is this all right?” she queries, suddenly nervous, unsure if her actions are welcome. Her own skin is on fire, a heat pooling low in her belly, desperate for something she is unsure of how to achieve, her body feeling empty.

“More than,” he growls softly, trailing a hand up her thigh until he manages to sneak it under the fabric of her nightgown, tracing small circles on the tender flesh there before letting his fingers move upwards towards the heat he can already feel radiating from her centre. “Too much?” he asks, watching her shake her head, lifting her hips slightly as he slides his hand between them, tracing over the dampness he finds there.

“Oh,” Shelagh whimpers, pushing down against his seeking digits, unable to control her reactions as he quickly slides his hand beneath the fabric of her knickers, letting her feel the sensation of his fingerprints against her clit, the tender bundle of nerves already swollen and aching. Her hips jump at the contact, a moan reverberating from her as he moves about, his fingers coming away slick when he takes his hand back. Her retaliation comes in her hands going to work on the buttons of his pyjama top, flicking each of them loose, her soft skin tracing over his pectoral and abdominal muscles as she shifts backwards, her pelvis dragging over his legs until she situates herself between his knees, glancing up at him from under her lashes.

“Shelagh,” Patrick says, voice thick. He isn’t sure if she’s about to do what he thinks she is, but he doesn’t want her to feel forced, the nervousness clearly written on her face. “You don’t have to.”

“I... I want to try,” she responds. “If you... if you’ll allow me to.”

“Anything. Anything you want Love. I am yours, now and always.” The words are dripping in sincerity, his heart pounding at how much he loves this tiny woman. She nods, shaking hands taking hold of his pyjama trousers and pulling them down just enough to expose his erection, tucking the elastic beneath his sac as she takes him in a tentative grasp. He cannot help but hiss at the contact, his body lighting up even from her feather light touches, having been deprived of the physical pleasure another person could give for so long. She glances up at him as she leans down, her chest close to the mattress, bottom in the air as she licks an uncertain stripe up the side of his cock.

He cannot help but let his eyes close, his head dropping back on the pillow at the sensation. For her part, Shelagh watches his reactions, noting how he fists his hands in the sheets when she passes her tongue over the crown of his shaft, her nose wrinkling slightly at the taste of the moisture that blooms across her tongue. She has never done this, is not sure what she is really supposed to do, but from the looks of the man beneath her, she is doing something right. She feels her hands shaking as she takes him into her mouth, sucking slightly, nearly jumping at the way a groan punches out of his stomach.     

“Just like that Darling,” he whispers, reaching down to stroke her cheek as he lifts his head, meeting her gaze. She bobs her head slightly, still suckling, unsure what she’s supposed to do other than that. He doesn’t seem to mind, eyes tracking her every motion, thumb stroking over her cheek and jaw all the while, his flesh velvet on steel in her mouth. She blushes when she realises some of her saliva is sliding down his shaft, pulling back, embarrassed.

“I’m sorry, I’m not very –” she doesn’t get to finish as he surges upwards, catching her around the waist and all but lifting her back into his lap.

“You are wonderful. My beautiful, amazing, darling,” he breathes, arms wrapping around her back as he flips her over, catching his own weight on his elbows as they land on the mattress again, Shelagh’s knees clutching his hips, a shocked look on her face at their reversed positions. He cannot help but beam down at her, lunging in for a kiss that is all tongue and teeth, his hand tugging at the buttons of her nightdress until he gives up, tearing the fabric open, laughing into her mouth at the noise of protest she makes.

“You’re sewing those back on,” she giggles, whimpering when he kisses down her throat.

“We both know that I cannot sew fabric my Love,” he murmurs against her skin, pulling a nipple into his mouth, laving the quickly hardening bud with his tongue, gently scraping his teeth over her, his hand tugging at her knickers until he has managed to get them down to her knees. She blushes when he moves to take them off completely with the same hand, the other coming up to tug at her neglected breast, rolling the nipple between his fingers until it is hard and aching in the same way that the other is, pebbling in the cool air of the room. “May I?” he questions, fingers stroking at her labia, revelling in how wet she is. She gives him a nod, not trusting her own voice, never having imagined that a man would want to do something like this to a woman.

He lowers his head without hesitation, inhaling the scent of her before ducking down, tracing her with one broad lick from her entrance to her clit. She thrashes at the sensation, hands slapping down onto the mattress until Patrick grabs them, bringing her one hand to his hair while the other tangles their fingers together. He takes to licking at her clit, small circles followed by quick flicks, the middle finger of his left hand pressing at her centre, slowly pushing into the warm wetness. He cannot help but thrust himself against the sheets when the finger slides in, her body tight, gripping him in rippling waves as her hips buck.

“Oh, oh,” she cannot form words, every emotion jumbled as he crooked his finger, hitting a spot inside her just as he sucks her clit, his incisor scraping over the nerves and sending her into oblivion. She feels dizzy, knows she is making noise, but she cannot stop, her entire body jerking as she breaks apart. He thrusts his finger shallowly, dragging out her pleasure until she sags, panting, against the sheets.  He gins as he crawls up her body, lips still damp when he pulls her into a messy kiss, letting her taste herself. She responds without hesitation, lazy movements of her tongue against his as her body begins to quickly reawaken, her centre throbbing again almost immediately. Looking at his cock, hanging heavy between them as he hovers over her, she knows that her body is craving him.

“I want to take you,” he breathes into her hair, kissing her just behind the ear, sending a wave of arousal through her, wetness pooling at her already soft centre. She pushes his shirt off his shoulders then, letting the fabric flutter to the floor next to the bed as he settles between her thighs. “Put your legs on my hips,” he adds, his hands helping to position her until his knees are beneath her backside, his erection already nudging at her, begging for entrance. He thrusts shallowly against her, kissing her, coating his cock in her wetness before he reaches between them. “Tell me if you want me to stop.”

With that he inches forward, her body yielding to his easily. She has heard other women talk of pain during their first sexual experience, but she feels none, only a slight tightness as he sheathes himself within her, his hips suddenly flush with hers. He stays still for a moment, letting her adjust, grinding himself there but moving no more than a few centimeters at a time until she cannot help but roll her hips, desperate to know what it feels like to have him drive into her. He grins, a sloppy kiss being pressed against her mouth as he starts to rock back and forth, dragging his erection in and out, one hand on her hip while the other slides up her belly, finding her breast and grabbing it, massaging her as he moves. Her breath hitches at the action, her body tightening against him.

“God,” he pants, starting to thrust in earnest, both hands now holding her steady as he pumps his hips. She feels like she is on fire, the heat licking up along her spine from her centre. Every point of contact between them is an inferno, doused with gasoline at his increasingly vigorous movements. He can feel his balls tightening, drawing up to his body as he pushes against her, the gasping breaths she’s making driving him crazy. Her body glows with perspiration in the moonlight where her skin is exposed, her back arching when he drags against her just right. He can tell she is close, already reading the signs from her, the increased breathing rate, the way she flushes down her neck to her breasts, the nipples hardening. She is gorgeous and he cannot resist the pull of her body any longer, pounding into her, seeking his release, needing the ache in his groin to end.

Her body goes rigid then, her muscles contracting around him in frantic pulses, fluttering around his cock until he can’t help but be pulled over the edge. He knows that their wedding is only a few days away, and he does not want her to get pregnant before they’re married, no matter how wonderful her body feels, but he cannot stop himself from coming no matter how hard he tries. It takes all his might to convince his hips to pull back, the first pulse of his orgasm already spilling into her body by the time he manages the action. Seeing the evidence of his release trickling out of her nearly makes him shove back inside her, another surge of ejaculate bursting forth from him as his hips jerk forward, painting her thighs in his release. He grinds against her pelvis, his cock dripping onto her belly as he comes for what feels like eons, arms shaking as he holds himself above her. His motions seem to spike her own pleasure again, her body twitching against him, her legs still wrapped firmly around his hips as her nails scratch into his shoulders as she trembles through the aftershocks.

“Patrick,” she moans, voice low and raw from pleasure, her body finally going limp in his arms. He wants nothing more than to stay like that, or better yet, to press back inside her, but he knows he can’t. Instead, he rolls onto his side, pulling her into his chest, ignoring the mess of his release that smears across his stomach when their bodies touch.

“Are you all right?” he asks, his own voice wrecked.

“Mm, wonderful,” Shelagh answers, kissing him sleepily. “Can I stay here? Just until dawn. I promise I’ll go back downstairs before Timothy gets up.”

“Of course,” he assures her, stroking a hand up and down her back, finally managing to free her from the now button-less nightdress. “We’ll have to see about getting you something else to wear for morning,” he muses, laughter caught in his throat. He cannot see it but he knows she rolls her eyes at him then.

“Let’s hope you have more than one nightshirt then, as I’m going to have to take the one on the floor,” she mumbles, listening to his heartbeat slow, letting the thump-thump-thump rock her to sleep. “I love you.”

“I love you too.” He adores that he can actually say the words to her, the soft smell of her hair lulling him into slumber in moments, their bodies clinging together even in their sleep.

She manages to wash herself quickly in the morning before taking Patrick’s nightshirt and slipping it on, curling up on the sofa only a few moments before Timothy comes downstairs to greet her. He rolls his eyes at his father and soon-to-be stepmother when they stare lovingly at one another, declaring that he is going to the community centre so that he doesn’t have to witness any more.

They make love in the bath before Shelagh kisses Patrick on the lips, sending him off to work. He can barely wait until she is actually his wife. Then he will not have to be concerned if anyone sees the love bites he left on her collarbone when she took him in hand.

With that thought in mind, he smiles the entire day.   

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading <3


End file.
